The Past Follows
by DrinksinHeaven
Summary: Dean is in town to investigate an old water mill, but gets sidetracked with a woman he meets at a bar. His past catches up with him and puts the woman's life in danger. The past is never far behind. Chapter 5 up sexual content
1. Chapter 1

**authors note**:this is set in the present timeline, more or less. Cas is gone, Sam's got his soul back. I like to pretend that most of season 6 never happened. I may in the future reference some of that stuff, but i didn't like how Cas flew off the handle. This is sort of a short story, a warm up for me of sorts because it has been a long time since i have written anything. Meredith is not a big focus, she is just meant to reveal how Dean's past follows him around and how it effects everything he does. I have rated this M because i want to do some sex scenes in the future, at least two that i can think of right now. Enough of my blathering, on to the story!

Dean unlocked the door and peered into the shabby motel room. He flipped the switch and light scattered around the room, revealing two lumpy beds and a bathroom with no door. "Great," he said sarcastically. Sam followed him into the room, annoyed, saying, "It doesn't have a TV, let alone internet." "Don't be so sad. I saw a library on the way here. I know how much you love libraries," Dean said, slapping Sam's shoulder. Dean walked over to the window and closed the blind, blocking out the midday sun. He approached the nearest bed and fell backwards on it, his eyes already closing for a much needed nap. Sam watched him and chuckled, "If you let me drive more often, you wouldn't be so tired all the time." "Shut up, Sam." Dean scooted up the bed and let his body relax for a moment. Sam broke the silence, "Hey, Dean. I'm going to go check out the town, see if I can't find that old water mill. Maybe do a little research." The only reply he got was a hhmmm. "I'm taking the Impala," but Dean was already asleep.

His dreams were horrifying as usual. He saw the faces of all people he couldn't save. The faces of all of the demons he had killed, stabbed in the chest. Even though he told himself that they were evil, the people were only possessed. They had lives, loved ones that they would never see again. He always saw the light leaving their eyes. What horrors they must have watched themselves do, powerless to stop it. His dreams shifted to the memory of Joe and Ellen. His father. Sam with such hate in his eyes when he was soulless. Castiel wading slowly into the water, disappearing in a swell of darkness. His dream culminated with its usual ending. He saw himself torturing souls in Hell.

When he awoke, he could feel the flop sweat on his forehead. He was shaking, wondering if his nightmares would ever get better, even if they just got less intense, less real he would be grateful. Sam still hadn't come back. Dean looked at his watch with blurry eyes and read 19:47. The night was still young, even though at this time of year it was already pitch black outside. Locking the door behind him, Dean flipped up his collar, the chill air bothering him more than he expected. Dean walked from their crappy motel towards a bar he had seen down the street. He was calming down slightly, but he only new of one sure way to calm his nerves after such horrible nightmares. He passed a group of women, scantily clad women. One called out to him "Hey handsome, looking for some company tonight?" Dean looked over. She had bright read hair and small eyes, dressed in a black dress that looked like it was made out of leather belts, it did nothing to compliment her over weight body. He replied with fake enthusiasm and confidence, "Evening, ladies. Out for a good strut are we? I'm sorry but I can't tonight." He turned and walked away, his head hung low, staring at his feet while he walked. "I'm looking for a different kind of escape," he quietly said to himself. He let out a hushed sigh, the culmination of a lifetime of stress and sins. Yea he had had some good times saved a lot of people, but that didn't count for shit in his mind. It was the failures that mattered. It was the failures that haunted him. He walked for several blocks, unaware of his surroundings. Finally he saw the red glow of neon light in the corner of his eye: AJ's Bar and Grill.

Dean wearily sat down on a squeaky bar stool. Slouching over the scarred bar, he waved to signal the barmen. The over weight, balding bar tender slowly walked over asking "what can I get you?" while drying a tumbler with a less than sanitary bar rag. Dean mildly wondered if his glasses would be just as soiled as that one. Dean responded, "four shots of whiskey." The barmen's eyes widened, his brows raised considerably until he looked at the man's face. He could see it was the face of a man much tormented by suffering. Losing interest, the barmen walked to the back of the bar to grab four shot glasses. He set them down two by two in a line on the bar with more force than was necessary. He grabbed the whiskey and poured the shots one by one, never lifting the bottle, spilling the alcohol in between the glasses. Dean didn't care, he reached for the first one and downed it without blinking. He grabbed the second one and did the same. As he moved to the third, a woman walked up to him.

"In a hurry?" she said, looking over the slumped man. When he made no reply, the woman sat on the stool next to him. "Feel like sharing?" "The whiskey or my life's story?" Dean said under his breath, he could still feel the drinks burning the back of his throat, slowly warming his stomach. She smiled to herself saying "Either one." Dean replied with a tired and surly "not really" effectively ending the conversation.

"Oh…" She lifted herself off of the stool and moved away from the bar, away from him. Dean turned and watched as she sat down at nearby table. He felt bad and thought for a moment. He grabbed his two remaining shots and walked awkwardly toward the table where the woman was and sat down. He tried to look apologetic and said "I'm sorry, here." Dean pushed one of the shots in front of her, "I'm Dean." She looked up at him with gentle green eyes. Her hair was dark brown and wavy, it draped around her face of kind features. She had a tall, curvy body, beautiful even if she wasn't his usual choice. She said "Meredith" and lifted the glass to her lips. Her nose wrinkled at the strong smell. Dean chuckled to himself. She looked at him questioningly, unsure of what to do exactly. He lifted the other glass and threw his third one down the hatch slamming the glass onto the stained, scratched table. She timidly drank her's. She coughed and choked a little and slammed her glass down as well, in victory. Dean smiled and laughed, she joined in after her initial response. Dean ordered another four shots and they talked for over an hour, about everything and nothing.

Dean returned to his usual bold and confident mannerisms after feeling the effects of the five shots, forgetting temporarily his current and outstanding problems. He bravely said, "So, since I've shared my whiskey, it is only fair that you tell me your life story." She replied with a huff, "What do you want to know?" He leaned forward, his elbows now on the table, hands placed in front. "Anything. How 'bout you tell me how you came to be in a shady bar in a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere?" She looked down at her recently ordered tequila sunrise, a contemplative look crossing her features. "Okay, but you have to promise to tell me yours after." Dean nodded once leaning back once more in his chair. The worn down, wooden chair complained with a groan as he tilted it on its two back legs.

She looked up at him after a moment. "Well, I had a pretty normal upbringing. My family was great, we always got along and we were all really close. But I have a life long struggle with depression. After two years of college, I decided that wasn't the thing for me. Part of me wanted it, but that same part only wanted it because everyone expected it of me. After a few years of working, I saved enough money to leave home, with no destination really in mind. I wanted to see the country, what it had to offer, the diverse landscapes and people. I wanted to experience everything, so I took every opportunity to do so. And I have done a lot in my short life, but I keep moving, saying preoccupied, for if I sit still for too long in one place, my depression catches up with me. So here I am, the current weigh station on my way to the next adventure." While she had been explaining her life, she kept looking up at him and then back down at her half finished sunrise. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, really trying to listen even though at this point he had lost count of how many drinks he had. The bar had gained more patrons as the night progressed until it was quite loud, but that didn't mater, both Meredith and Dean were absorbed in their own private world.

Dean was quiet for a moment, not sure what he should say when she had finished. How different their lives had been, but with the same outcome practically. While his was a broken family, he felt such a bond with his brother he could never imagine leaving him. But of course they had put themselves in a world of danger. He had 'attended' so many schools that he had lost count. Eventually he just got his GED instead of starting over again and again, only to be moved somewhere else in a few months at most. Meredith didn't seem to care much about her family, even though they had been so close. How could she throw away that loving, normal life she had? He would never have done that… but maybe he would have. He always felt a sort of pull, urging him to move around. His lifestyle with Sam was fine by him, but his year with Lisa was nice, even though the horror of failing his brother haunted him at night. One more thing on top of a life of misery. His life with Lisa was calm, peaceful, at least as peaceful as an ex-hunter's could be. Family dinners, Ben's baseball games, an honest job, the beginnings of friends, but somehow he felt like he didn't deserve that life. He knew that even though the imminent threat of the Apocalypse was gone, he still was putting Lisa and Ben in danger just by hanging around. After their memories of him had been erased, he felt a profound loss, but he carried on, searching for a way to get Sam's soul back. He slipped effortlessly into is old life, taking care of Sam and 'taking care' of things that go bump in the night.

Dean was shocked back to reality when a waitress dropped a tray of food. Syracuse china smashed, burgers fell apart, and gooey cheese fries splattered on the floor. The waitress swore loudly, bending over to pick up what she could. The cook rushed out to see what had transpired and walked over to the distressed, apologetic waitress. The cook placed a hand on her back lovingly and started wiping the mess with a kitchen rag. He looked at her with such caring eyes. Dean looked back at Meredith with a sinking heart.

Meredith looked at him with curious eyes, "your turn." Dean smiled slightly and began his tail, hoping that he wasn't too drunk to spill the beans about the more terrifying details of his life. "When I was a kid, my dad moved us around a lot." Dean was trying to remember his usual simplified life story. "My mom died when I was very young and he poured his grief into his work. Growing up, he would leave for several days at a time. I practically raised my brother, Sam. He was a baby when our mom was killed. When we were older, we joined the family business and traveled with our dad, living job to job. After our dad died, Sam and me continued what he had started. We are actually here in town trying to find another job." Meredith listened carefully. "God, I'm so sorry, losing both parents, that must have been rough." After a long quiet moment she gathered herself and asked, "What do you do? You and your brother?" "Pest control," Dean replied with a straight face. She looked at him with one eyebrow lifted, "and you have to move around a lot for that?" She started to see through his story. Dean followed up with "It's specialized work," a crooked smile forming momentarily. Meredith decided to drop the subject. She sipped the last of her drink.

Meredith glanced down at her watch. "Oh, its gotten late. I have work in the morning." She stood up to leave but turned back to him. "How long are you going to be in town?" Dean shrugged. She boldly said, "Well if you're still here tomorrow night, you should give me a call. We could meet up somewhere." She scribbled her name and telephone number on a bar napkin and passed it to him. She turned away with a smile on her face. Dean watched as she left the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam checked motel alarm clock yet again, the red light blinding his eyes. It read 1:37 am. He never could sleep well until his brother made his way back to the room. He had driven 600 miles that day too, and he did hours of research this afternoon, driving around town looking for the old water mill. He was dog-tired, but he still couldn't sleep. Whenever Dean was on a bender, Sam knew that he could easily end up too drunk to get back, certainly too drunk to drive. Usually he just brought bottles of whiskey back to the room and drank until he passed out, but sometimes he would go to bars to meet 'new people', code for easy women. Sam knew why Dean went off and got seriously hammered. Sam herd Dean toss and turn every night. Sometimes Dean would cry out, sit straight up in be, gun drawn, pointing into the darkness. Every once in a while, Dean would wake up and run to the bathroom, retching up whatever crap fast food they had for dinner. He finally knew what it was like for Dean when he had had nightmares/visions all those years ago. Sam tried to help in the only way he knew how, but Dean would never talk about it, he would just try to drink his problem away. The nights he passed out seemed to calm him for a little while, made it possible for him to sleep sometimes at least, but he would drink so much that he would have a horrible hang over the next morning. At least Sam didn't have to hold back his hair.

Sam heard the door slam, he hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. Dean shuffled next to the bed. A few seconds later he got hit with a wall of alcohol stench. How much did he have tonight? Sam was grateful that Dean was able to find his way back to the motel. Usually Dean would call Sam's phone trying to explain where he was in his inebriated state. Sam would have to figure out where he was and pick him up. Luckily that was not the case tonight. Dean flopped onto his bed, it squeaked and bounced loudly under his weight. Sam rolled over, now that Dean was back, maybe he could actually get some sleep. They had a lot of work to do tomorrow.

The next morning (a few hours later), Sam and Dean made their way into the neighborhood diner, partly for the food, for they boasted the self-proclaimed best baked apple pancakes in the state, and partly for the local color. Sam paused, waiting for the hostess, but Dean walked straight to the nearest booth, catching the waitresses eye and gesturing to the booth, wordlessly telling her they were going to sit there. Sam rolled his eyes and scooted into the booth. Dean gingerly did the same thing, making faces of discomfort as he did so. Sam was going to ask, but decided against it, the reason was obvious from last night. The waitress came over, threw the menus on the table, and said in an annoyed tone, "whaddaya want?" Dean brushed his hand through his hair and down his neck, trying to shake his post binge headache. Glancing at the window ad and then back at the older, frumpy waitress he said, "I'll have the best baked apple pancake in the state and coffee, black." He flashed her the best smile he could conjure at the moment. She asked, "It'll take 'bout an hour, that still okay?" not really caring what the answer was. Dean nodded. Sam rolled his eyes again, but he supposed that the time could be used to talk to the many locals already eating in the diner. The waitress looked at Sam, "What about you, hun?" Sam glanced over the breakfast menu "Do you serve egg white omelets?" Sam asked hopefully. The waitress just stared at him with a vague look. Sam said, "right, never mind," and ordered the vegetarian omelet and water.

When the waitress had gone, Dean asked Sam, "whadda we got?" Sam took out his laptop and a stack of papers from his shoulder bag. Sam was off to the races, "Well, this is a job for us. The most recent victim was found down by the old water mill, drowned, but here is the weird part, the river has been dry for over fifty years. Up river, they dammed it up, making land available for these newer towns around here. So I did some digging in the town records and found some old newspaper clippings and several coroners reports. The water mill at the edge of town was owned and operated by a ruthless businessman, Mr. Matchitehew. When a worker fell into the water off a near by dock, he was pulled under the water wheel, lodged, and drowned. When they finally got the man out from under the wheel, his body was crushed in several places, unassumingly by the paddles of the wheel. The owner was charged with reckless homicide when the sheriff realized that there were no safety precautions built into the mill, specifically the paddle wheel. The he dodged the charges claiming that the sheriff had no jurisdiction over him, which turned out to be true. Several more workers were killed in the same way over then next few years, but Mr. Matchitehew kept pushing his workers and never implemented any safety precautions. When the river was dammed up, the mill of course became useless. Mr. Matchitehew went bankrupt and died in the old mill, having no where else to go."

Dean thought for a moment when Sam paused in his explanation and replied, "so, you think we are dealing with cursed objects?" Sam affirmed with, "Or in this case, a cursed building." Dean furrowed his brow, "This could just be a normal crime. Maybe someone drowned the victim and then dragged his body over to the dry river bed. I mean, this could be nothing." Sam nodded but said, "I know, I think the only way to find out for sure is to figure out if there have been any other drownings in the area." Dean slowly nodded and said, "well, we should check and see if there are any legends or stories about the mill or the drowning." Sam decided that they should ask around the restaurant. Dean agreed, but said that as soon as his food came he was going to shove his face until he couldn't take any more. Sam laughed once and stood up from the booth.

Sam went over to a group of laughing, smiling women, maybe the local sewing group Sam thought sarcastically. "Excuse me ladies, but I am a reporter for the Springfield Historical Society, would you mind if I ask you about the old water mill outside of town?" All of the women stopped laughing and somberly looked him in the eye. They said almost in unison, "you shouldn't go down there, it's not safe." Same was taken aback, "what do you mean, why? What happened there?" The women looked at each other. The bravest one answered, "I don't really know why, but it's dangerous there. My parents and grandparents warned me repeatedly about that mill. There must be a reason. I think a few people have gotten hurt over there a long time ago and now the town is weary of it." The other women nodded and looked slightly distressed. Sam talked to several other patrons in the diner with similar results. He looked back and saw Dean back at their booth, shoving his face, just as he promised. Sam joined him and tired to make sense of the stories he heard. Dean burst out with, "this is the best pancake I ever had. It is basically like a huge bear claw, or apple fritter, whatever. It is so good!" Dean's eyes rolled back in pleasure. Sam looked at his food. The omelet looked runny and not very appetizing, but the food here was cheep, so he cut into it with the side of his fork, idly looking over the research again. He was disappointed to find that his vegetarian omelet had only cheese and mushrooms, no spinach or tomatoes or anything. He sighed and continued eating.

Sam broke the eating frenzy across from him, "Dean, did you get a strange responses from all of the towns people?" Dean said, his mouth full, "Whado ou mean?" Sam elaborated, "Well, I kept getting the same response from everyone, the same story, or non story as I should say. But everyone used the same words even, it was like a bad cover story, but they all seemed very sincere." Dean swallowed and said, "yea your right, that is pretty weird I guess. It seems like they're all scared of the mill but none of them know why, like they all got painted with the same brush." Sam was slightly amazed, "yea, like their reaction is subconscious, maybe even subliminal. Nice one Dean." Sam couldn't hid the surprise from his voice. Dean leaned back and patted his full stomach, "When we leave here, lets head over to the police station and see if we can't scam up some police reports and coroner reports, maybe there is a pattern or connection here." Sam smiled but pushed his half eaten omelet to the side.

They drove to the police station, dressed in their suits. Sam fiddled with the fake badge and ID in its worn leather cover. He never trusted them like Dean seemed to, he always worried that they would be caught, and rightly so for they had been a few times. Dean looked over and saw Sam's reservations, "Quit worrying, Sam. It'll be fine. In a small town like this, they'll jump through hoops to cooperate with us." Sam's response was a defeated, "yea, whatever." Dean led the way into the police station. Sam took one last deep breath, getting into character, before following him. Dean walked up to the desk and introduced them, "Morning officer. We're FBI. I'm agent Jefferson and my partner, agent Adams." They dug their false badges from their jacket pockets, flashing them quickly but professionally. The woman's eyes widened slightly. "We are here on behalf of the Federal Water Safety Commission." The officer collected herself and asked, "What can we do for you, agents?" Sam approached and said confidently, "We are going to need all of the police and coroner's reports of all drownings on file." She looked questioningly, "Why?" Sam was slightly hesitant but Dean recovered their story saying, "We need to see if there was anyway they could have been prevented, decide which were accidents and which were not, and implement disciplinary action if necessary." Now she really was shocked and let out an, "Oh… give me some time to round those records up for you. It might take a little time." Dean said in closing, "We are going to investigate the dry river bed and mill, we'll be back in an hour. Have those records ready." She quickly nodded her head in slight distress and before going into the back she called to them, "If you are going down to the mill, be careful, it's not safe." Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

As they drove towards the edge of town Sam remarked, "Did you really have to scare the poor woman?" Dean replied pompously, "What? Intimidation is the lawman's most effective tool." Dean smiled and laughed. Sam sighed and turned to look out the window. He watched as they passed through the town's shabby main stretch, one of the handful of small residential areas, and a few lone abandoned houses that looked like they were being consumed by the surrounding woods. They drove for a total of about ten minuets, pulling over by the dry river bed, the mill on the other side. Stepping out of the car, Sam spotted a foot bridge that lead over to the other side of the 'river,' more of a gorge at this point. He looked at Dean and motioned with his head toward the bridge. Dean circled round to the back of the car, popped the trunk and got what he thought they might need, just in case. "It looks like this might get dirty," Dean said as he grabbed some extra clothes from the trunk and threw some to Sam. They both changed quickly, Sam looking cautiously around first, to check for witnesses. After carefully placing the suits into their bags (there is no excuse for a dirty suit when trying to play the part) he grabbed a long iron axe with a worn wooden handle, his current weapon of choice. He threw the crowbar, form follows function, to his brother. He looked at Sam and closed the trunk. As they walked toward the mill Sam remarked, "This place looks pretty old and run down, but no more than usual for an abandoned old building." As they climbed up the rickety stairs and went inside to investigate, Dean said, "yea, it doesn't seem any more dangerous than any of the other dead buildings in the area." The grinding wheels had fallen from the second floor above, crashing through both floors, into the ground below. The boards had splintered and buckled under the weight. Support beams had fallen in, and there was evidence of wildlife intrusion. Dean started going up the stairs to the second floor, but the first step he tried split right through where his foot was. "Guess we ain't goin' up there," he said.

Sam started out through the back door, "Lets check out the water wheel." As he approached it a spirit appeared right in front of him. It looked like an old time worker, in overalls, work shirt, and cap. It looked directly into his eyes urgently and said, "You shouldn't be here, it isn't safe!" Sam was surprised, but took a swing at it, his iron crowbar passing right through it with a whoosh, making the ghost disappear for now. Sam looked over to Dean. "Don't spirits only come out at night?" Dean said. Sam looked just as surprised, "Yea, this one must have a really strong presence here. Or should I say, they must have strong presence." All around them, shades and spirits appeared. They saw the forms of several teenagers, a few adults, more workers, and a hiker. Dean thought he could point out the most recent victim. They all repeated the same warning: "What are you doing here? You should be here. It isn't safe." A strange noise started coming from the water wheel. Sam and Dean looked and saw that it began to turn, water trickling from behind them towards the wheel, quickly growing into a fast current. Dean said with controlled fear in his voice, "Sammy, lets get out of here." They both ran as fast as they could around the mill, out of the raging current that had formed, toward the foot bridge. Sam slipped several times, because he had been closer to the wheel, loosing his balance. Dean rushed back to his little brother, dragging him to safety, clumsily dropping his favorite axe in the process. They made it across the bridge that seemed to be collapsing and into the car. Dean shoved in the keys and started the old girl up. They drove off at top speed, leaving divots of mud and water behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell was that!" Dean exclaimed. Sam shook his head trying to calm his nerves, "I don't know." Dean looked at him with wide eyes, "Did you notice how they didn't attack? What's with that? And why did all of this happen in the midday sun? That is when ghosts are weakest!" Sam looked at him and said, "I don't know Dean, they must have been very strong spirits. They tried to warn us about the mill, maybe these ghosts are stronger because they are motivated by concern and a protective nature of the townspeople instead of by rage and anger." After a moment and a few deep breaths, Dean turned on the tape player, Def Leppard spread through the car. He said, looking down at their clothes, "Lets change and get those police reports."

They headed back to the police station after stopping at the motel to clean up and change, a little awkward because the bathroom had no door, but they survived, after a few bad jokes by Dean. Back in character, they walked into the station, the same woman at the desk. She saw them and rushed into the back to grab a large stack of papers. "Here you go, agents," she said with a fake smile. "Thank you for your cooperation," Dean said, his head held slightly higher than normally. Sam reached for the papers and sternly said, "We will be back if we need anything else." Dean chuckled as they got back outside. "See, you're developing that surly attitude that is characteristic for a cop." Sam said, "ha, ha," sarcastically as he clambered back into the car, trying to balance the papers. "Come on, Sammy. We don't have all day," Dean teased.

Back at the motel, they both looked through the official documentation: Sam intently studied, Dean perused. He broke open a beer instead. He offered one to Sam but he refused, Sam had more qualms about drinking early in the day. Reading the most recent victims coroner's report said, "It looks like the victim did die by drowning, but what newspapers omitted was that the victim had crushed bones in three places in his body: his femurs, lower back, and his shoulder blades and upper arms." Dean made a huff and said, "So, what does that mean." "The original reports from the workmen deaths said they had similar wounds," Sam explained. "Let me see those." Sam reached for the stack of drowning victims. "What are you looking for?" Dean asked trying to get interested. "Besides the drowning, I'm looking for any connections between their injuries. I don't think it really has anything to do with the victims, I mean, I don't think the victims are connected to each other. Just proximity to the mill itself." Sam sorted through the autopsy reports and said, "there were several drownings that are not related to the water mill, but those that were found near the mill suffered from laterally crushed bones in several places over their bodies. Look, a girl from the eighties had broken shin bones, pelvis, and upper back. All the other water mill drowning victims suffered from similar wounds, don't you see what his means?" Dean looked at him with snide look saying, "Nope, I haven't really been paying attention," and lifted the bottle to his lips. Sam huffed and said, "Even though the wounds were over different parts of the body, they all had the same distance between injuries. They were crushed by something that had distinct lateral points of impact!" Sam's voice was getting louder as he explained, to himself mostly, the situation. A nerd-gasm if you will. "This means that they were all killed under the water wheel, pulled under and crushed by the current created by the ghost of the dead owner!" Dean finally chimed in, "Great, so how do we stop it?" Sam thought and said, "Well, usually we would find the body and burn the bones, but it says here that he was cremated. I think we have to salt and burn the water wheel?" Dean got excited, "And maybe the whole mill!" All Sam could say was, "Yea, maybe." Deans tipped back the rest of his beer and said in a low growl, "Sweet."

They drove to the gas station in town. Sam filled her up with a fake credit card while Dean walked into the Road Pilot. A few minuets later, Sam finished up and drove the car closer to the store. Sam found Dean inside with two large gasoline tanks, one in each hand, and several tie-downs made for semi-trucks over his shoulder. He was starring longingly at the auto parts section. Dean saw Sam and was jolted out of his stupor. Sam looked at the tanks and back at Dean. Dean said in a mischievous tone, "What? We'll need a lot of gasoline to burn down the mill. Our usual lighter fluid and a Morton's Salt won't cut it." Sam conceded reluctantly. Dean walked up to the cash register and lifted up the tanks, "These two, this, (motioning to the tie-downs with his head) and four bags of rock salt from outside." Dean paid with another fake credit cared and walked outside to the gas pumps, leaving Sam to grab the four bags of salt. Dean filled up the tanks and they were on their way. As they headed back to the motel Sam said, "I've been thinking about why the spirits and the reaction from the mill and paddle wheel were so strong, even in the midday sun. Maybe it is because the mill would have only been open during sunlight hours. It may be that the spirits are trapped during the working day." Dean looked at same with a confused look, "So what are you saying, that these ghosts might be weaker in the middle of the night?" Sam nodded and said, "Yea, if they come out at all." Dean looked skeptical, "That's never how it's worked in the past. I mean, why would the ghosts not even show?" Sam shrugged and said, "We've never seen ghosts in the day time either, let alone standing in the open sunlight. It's my only explanation, Dean." Sam looked earnest and slightly annoyed. Dean shook it off and said, "So, we want to go tonight at midnight? Fine, whatever."

They got to the motel and regrouped for tonight. It was only about 17:30. Dean thought for a moment about last night. He flipped out his phone, searching his pockets for the bar napkin. Sam chimed in, "Want to get some food?" Dean found the number and began typing it into his phone, "I don't know, Sam. Maybe?" Sam looked at him questioningly and surprised. He then saw the napkin with writing on it. "Ahh. Whose the unlucky girl you met last night?" Dean looked sideways at him while lifting the phone to his ear. "She's not a slut or a whore, she is a nice woman. Her name is Meredith." Sam sat down on the bed and said, "Not your usual type but whatever floats your boat." Dean listened to the other line ringing and waited for her to answer with excitement in his stomach. _Are those butterflies down there?_ he wondered to himself. She picked up the phone, "Hello?" A smile crossed Dean's face, "Hey, Meredith. It's Dean, from last night." He actually started blathering out of nerves, "You said I should call if I was going to be in town for a few days. I was wondering if you wanted to meet for drinks or dinner." Her voice lifted, "Oh yea! I remember. What did you have in mind?" All she heard was an umm. She laughed a little and said, "How about dinner at Pasta Italiano. It's cheesy but pretty good for the only Italian food in town. Let's meet there at about six thirty." "Okay. I'll be there," Dean sheepishly hung up the phone and looked over to Sam. "Are you taking a girl out on a date? For Serious? I'm shocked!" Dean made a face and said, "Oh, shut up!"

Dean parked his car outside the restaurant, wondering if he should look for her inside, or if he should wait out here by the entrance. It was getting dark so he decided to head inside. The hostess looked up from her guest book as the door closed behind him. "Welcome to Pasta Italiano. Thank you for joining us this evening. How many?" She was nice enough but her voice was a little too falsely excited. He replied, "I'm actually meeting someone here, I wonder if she is already here, Meredith?" Her face lifted in true excitement, "Ah, right this way." She led him to a booth at the back of the restaurant. It was quiet in the back and the mood lighting lit Meredith's face beautifully. He waved and took his coat off at the same time, an awkward combination. He thought to himself, _get it together, Dean, you're not thirteen anymore. You've talked to girls before, you've liked girls before. Pull it together. But damn, she is looking so fine tonight!_ She stood and gave him a quick hug. When they took their seats he said, "You look so beautiful tonight, Meredith." "Thank you, it's a new outfit." She smiled with exaggerated pride. She wore a turquoise blouse with a pink, lacy cami underneath, a black, pleated mini skirt, and black flats with the slightest hint of makeup that brought out her brown eyes. She handed him a menu and went back to deciding what she wanted. He not as much read the menu, but looked at her, her wavy brown hair caught the light in beautiful streaks.

The waitress came around and greeted Meredith, "Hey Meredith, what's up? And more importantly, whose the hotty?" Meredith replied, "Oh hey Shauna, nice to see you too. I didn't realize you were working tonight. This is Dean…" She leaned over dramatically and said in a lower voice to her friend, "We're on a date." Meredith lifted her eyebrows several times to indicate her interest. Dean blushed and wiped his had across his mouth and chin. The waitress went on, "Good for you, all this time you've been here, I've never seen you with anyone. Anyway, what can I get for you?"

They ordered, ate, and drank in a happy attitude, starting off light and flirty conversation but quickly moving into intense but passionate territory. Again, same as the night before, Dean was able to open up to her like he could with only one or two others. She opened her heart and he walked right in. He felt truly happy talking to her and wished the night would never end. He didn't want to just hit it and quit it. He wanted to go slow and make Meredith just as happy as he felt. They fit well together, he could bum some of her food, but also have a deep heartfelt discussion.

At the end of the meal, the waitress swung by and dropped off the desert menu and Meredith almost grabbed it out of her hand she was so excited. "I've been dieing for a cannoli ever since I watched the Sopranos last week!" Dean smirked and said, "You like the bad boys, huh?" She looked up to him and said with an innocent smile, "I don't know what you mean." Dean laughed and asked, "How do I measure up to your usual suspect?" She began to study him and looked thoughtfully into his eyes, "You know, I see right through you, the whole bad boy persona. Yea, part of it is you, your upbringing perhaps, but I see goodness in your heart too. There's no hiding it from me.". She handed the menu to him and he said, "Maybe you shouldn't look so closely." A comforting but cheerful smile spread across her lips. She looked his right in the eye and said, "Everybody's got a past, baby cakes, whether if follows you around the rest of your life and influences everything you do is up to you. So, here is to turning leaves and fresh starts." She held up her wine and he his beer and they toasted to the night.

When they had finally finished, Dean picked up the check, legally paying for the meal for once, with cash. Dean helped Meredith with her coat and escorted her outside. He walked her to her car and she began jangling her keys. She looked at him and said, "I had a great time tonight, we should do it again soon." She smiled at him and he said, "Yea, me too." She turned to open the door but he caught her arm, gently turning her to face him once more. He let his hand trace down her arm to find her hand. He covered it with his and she interlaced their fingers. He lifted his other hand to her face, holding her cheek gently in his hand. Their eyes met and he leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes and put her other hand behind his shoulder. It wasn't a deep kiss, just lips, no tongue, but it was so sensuous that she melted beneath him. She went to deepen it, but he pulled away, "When can I see you again, Meredith?" She was slightly stunned but pulled herself together and answered, "Well, I'm free in the evenings, hence these last two, so whenever really, even tomorrow night if you want." Dean smiled down at her, "Great. If my job goes well tonight I'll give you a call tomorrow, maybe we can meet up." She paused and gave him a look. "What do you mean, you're working tonight? But it's already dark," she said in confusion. "The pests we 'take care of' come out at night," he said, hoping she would buy it. "Ah, like nocturnal…" "Exactly. I look forward to see you again. Have a good night," he said, again slightly awkwardly, those dang butterflies he would never admit to were back. "Okay," she said, a sweet smile across her lips, got into her car, and went home.

Dean drove back to the motel with a happy smile on his face. He thought the date, never really thought he would use that word, with Meredith went extremely well. He decided that if the job went well tonight, he would meet up with her again tomorrow. When he reached the motel Sam was already getting antsy. Dean laughed at him and threw him a beer. "It's dark outside, Sam. I think it is safe to drink now even for you. Be careful though, don't go over board. We still got to work tonight… maybe you shouldn't have any at all." Dean was having a good time poking fun at his little brother who snidely took the beer and opened it with his bic lighter. They still had a few hours, so Dean got some of his guns from the car and cleaned them thoroughly with a rag. Sam did some refreshing on the research. _That guy just won't stop_, Dean thought. When they loaded the car with the supplies they bought, Dean finally realized, "Damn it!" Sam quickly looked in alarm, "What!" "I dropped my axe at the mill somewhere. Fuck! I really love that axe." Sam laughed and patted his brother on his shoulder saying, "It's okay Gollem, we'll find your precious." Dean sulked and said, "Ha Ha, Sam, just get in the car."

They pulled up to the mill and were surprised to see that the ground was dry and that the bridge that was collapsing while they fled earlier that day was fully intact. Sam and Dean exchanged questioning, confused looks. Dean shrugged and headed to the back of the car, picking up a tank of gas and a duffle bag with two bags of salt. He felt his pocket for his Zippo, yep, got it. Sam grabbed the other stuff along with his salt-round loaded shotgun. He was bringing out the big guns just in case.

The darkness was all encompassing and it took their eyes a few minuets to fully adjust. Sam goes inside to pour gas and salt inside, on the floor, walls, and any supports he could reach. Dean took the outside, covering the wooden foundation and outside walls with gas. He hoped that splashing the gas on first might make the salt stick better, and it seemed to be working. He poured mounds of rock salt around each foundation support base. So far, Sam's idea about the spirits being weaker at night in this case seemed to be correct. No ghosts appeared. No movement besides their own.

Before going down to the water wheel, they went up to the tree line, not far off, and used the tie-downs to attached themselves to the largest trees nearby. They both thought that having a safety line was a good idea, maybe keep them from drifting too far down… hopefully. Seemed like as good a plan as any. Dean led the way down to the wheel, slowly and cautiously, but when you play with fire, sometimes you get burned, and it seemed like Dean always got burned. The awakened spirits encircled Dean as he approached the wheel, slowing him down. They were yelling at him, and even though they weren't directly attacking him, they distracted him enough that before he knew it, he was in deep shit. The wheel was turning and there was water flowing down to the paddle wheel from all directions, much stronger and more violent than earlier. Dean had trouble standing and eventually fell. He was being swept down the hill directly into the waters being churned by the wheel.

Sam started to rush over to Dean, but something caught the light in the corner of his eye. He looked back and found Dean's axe. A plan was forming in his mind, but not fast enough. He grabbed the axe and extra the salt and gas and started down the hill toward Dean. He decided to light the mill, hoping that destroying the mill would weaken the water wheel's power. He held onto the supports and foundation of the mill to carefully make his way down to the water line. He got out his bic and lit up the mill as he went. The gas quickly overtook the main building with fire. He crossed the short distance to the water wheel platform, his gun getting swept away as he went, trying to carry all his supplies through the rushing current. He jumped onto the platform while Dean struggled to resist the flowing waters, he was dangerously close to the crushing paddles. Sam took up his brother's axe and crashed it down onto the wheel's axle as hard and as fast as he could. Burning the mill had weakened the cursed object, allowing Sam to finally cut through the axle.

The force of the river flow lessened greatly when the wheel was finally detached. It was being swept away by its own current. Slowly at first, but picking up speed. The waters receded and then disappeared, to Dean's relief. Sam cut his tie-down and jumped to help Dean up, also cutting his. Dean grabbed the last of the gas and salt from the platform as they chased after the rolling wheel, throwing the salt to Sam. They caught up to it and ran beside it, each pouring either gas or salt onto the wheel. When they got the dribbles onto the wheel, they stopped chasing the wheel as it continued to roll down the dry river bed. Dean whipped out his lighter and threw the lit Zippo at the wheel. The gas ignited and the water wheel rolled, burning and flaming, into the night. At last it hit a rock and fell over, quickly burning and extinguishing itself in defeat.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Sam marvel at the spectacle before them. A huge smile spreads over Deans face. "Oh my god Sam, that was so fucking awesome." The mill spit flames and sparks into the night sky. Smoke danced in the gentle wind, curling and folding itself while slowly ascending into the heavens. Sam followed It up and looked at the sky, pitch black but littered with stars. The earth had gone still and for a moment all seemed peaceful. Dean was still exclaiming about the huge ass fire they had just made. "Do you see this Sammy? We did that. Whooo! Man if that doesn't make you feel alive than nothing in this god forsaken life ever will." Sam laughed to himself and looked for his shot gun which he had dropped much to his embarrassment. There was so much light issuing forth from the fire that finding the gun was surprisingly easy. It hadn't been swept too far down and he picked it up, brushing the dust off. as he followed his screaming brother closer to the fire he found something else as well shining in the red yellow light. He bent down to pick up the familiar smooth metal lighter. Man had that lighter seen a lot of action. This was just another adventure in a long line of ghost fighting. In fact, none of these hunts would have been successful if Deans trusty lighter ever faulted or got misplaced. Dean was jumping and celebrating and Sam couldn't help but laugh and smile, finally easing up from the most recent dance with death. The heat from the fire was so intense that you couldn't go within about a thirty yards radius without singeing not just your eyebrows but your hair and clothes. Where Sam was, it felt like his skin was baking, but not really in a bad way. More like when you are sunning on the beach and your exposed skin gets warm. After Dean had calmed down, they spent a few minutes retrieving whatever supplies they could. They learned long ago that you want to leave as little evidence as possible. The huge mill fire would surely attract attention soon, this area would be covered with the police force and sheriff. It would be the biggest news story this town had ever seen.

They drove into the night, hoping that the fire wouldn't spread to far. It would be a shame if the woods caught on fire, but there was a large enough berm around the mill to justify burning it down. When they reached the motel, they collapsed onto their beds with a huff, sleep closing their curtain on their successful hunt. They slept for what seemed like ages. Dean, in his exhaustion, couldn't escape his nightmares simply by waking up. Unconsciousness dragged him down into the recesses of his mind, where all his memories were waiting for him. The horrors of hell flashed before his eyes, as clear as day, but forever darkness. Living people knew nothing of real evil. They are inhabitants of Plato's Cave, forever seeing the shadow of good and evil, love and hate. They know not the true form of evil. Such evil only exists behind the line of fire that issues forth from the eternal pit of hell. Dean had experienced evil's true nature, and its impression on his soul is what haunted him most. When he took up his torturer's weapon upon other souls, he became the evil he had long sought to resist and destroy. His mind dragged up the faces of his countless victims, their faces twisted in pain. Cries of agony issued from their lips, reverberating in his unconscious mind. Their pain was never ending, until broken. Dean had been broken. His righteousness had buckled and crumbled beneath the whip and knife and so many other devices of evil. When he was finally pulled from the pits of damnation, the damage was done. He was a broken shadow of a man returned to the cave with his peers, forever knowing the true nature that lurked behind the shadow of evil. He had become a black hole, consuming all earthly pleasures and delights trying to fill his void, but none could he truly enjoy, forever reminded of the evil within his heart.

Dean awoke to Sam calling his name and shaking the shit out of him, trying for minutes to wake his screaming brother. Dean's wide, dilated eyes met Sam's concerned and distressed eyes. It took him a moment to snap out of his nightmare. Slowly he became aware of his surroundings. He sat up and recognized the crappy motel room for what it was, instead of thinking it was hell. Sweat had broken out all over his tense body. His breathing was heavy, the rushing air in and out felt dry, made his throat feel like sandpaper. Sam sat next to him on the bed, repeatedly tracing reassuring circles on his back. Dean bent over, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes until he saw stars, trying to rid himself of the images from only moments ago. Sam softly said, "Dean, are you alright?" "Yea, just give me a minute." Sam said in a sad voice, "I thought the nightmares were getting better" "Yea, no. I've just been drinking more than usual," Dean looked down with shame in his eyes. Sam said, "You know, whatever you need, I'm here for you. If you ever want to talk about…" Dean interrupted, "Yea, thanks Samantha, by the way to you have an extra tampon? Get outa here." Sam laughed and shook his head as he stood and moved away from Dean. Dean turned to look at Sam as he walked to the bathroom. He said in a mournful tone, "Sammy… thanks." Sam smiled sadly and nodded.

Dean laid back down and looked at his watch, "Holly shit! It's sixteen thirty! I haven't never slept this long since… I don't know when!" Sam heard him from over the shower and laughed. He yelled back, "Yea, I woke up a long time ago. I decided to let you sleep. I know you never do so I figured if you could, you needed too." Dean sat there and couldn't decided whether that was a good thing or not. Maybe sleeping longer brought out the dreams. He was deep in thought but soon interrupted by his growling stomach. "Damn, I'm hungry," he exclaimed to the empty room and doorless attached bathroom. Unasked, Sam called back, "If you can wait a bit longer, we can grab some food later." Dean thought about it, considering Meredith as a possible option, "What were you doing today while I was sleeping?" "I was looking for another job. I think I found one in Normal, Indiana, something about organless murder victims. Since you slept today, I thought we could leave after we got some food. We could get there early tomorrow morning if we drove through the night." Dean frowned in thought. He wanted to see Meredith again. "I was thinking, maybe we should take a little break, you know, leave tomorrow and start the case the day after that." Sam frowned as the alternating blazing hot and frigid cold water ran over his body in the cramped shower. He must be really hung up on that girl. He had been spending as much time as possible with this mystery girl since they got there. Sam called back in a playful tone, "Oh, this is about that girl isn't it… Well, if you really like her I guess we could put off finding another job for a little longer." Sam smiled to himself. It had been a long time since Dean had been with a girl more than once. He usually was the one night stand type, but with this girl he seemed different. If she was making Dean happy, Sam could live with standing still for a while.

While Sam was hogging the shower, Dean grabbed his duffle bag and carried it to the small table. He sat down, pulling the bag into his lap. He unzipped it and forced his hand down to the bottom of the bag, through several layers of clean and dirty clothes and necessities. Grabbing hold of his prize, he carefully pulled it out. It was a stack of his favorite pornography, some from when he was just a teenager. There was a whole range. Some were incredibly trashy with huge breasted women showing off their coochies to whoever would look. Others had strange themes, under the sea or the S&M edition. However, his absolute favorite was the old playboy that he had found as a kid. Those young women were beautiful and seductive without being sluts or completely lewd and naked. They were real beauties, walking, talking, and living out their real lives in the world. He not as much jerked off to these as admired them. They were his childhood crushes. Dean separated these from the rest of the stack, shoving those back to the bottom, where they belonged. He didn't feel like imagining dirty women making utter fools of themselves, selling out for a buck while they're young and perky. Sometimes he did, but not today and he knew why. He flipped through the pages carefully looking over the pictures with an affectionate eye. They didn't excite his piece, but his heart. He was so focused on his first loves that Sam was able to sneak up behind him. "Wow, it's been a while since I've seen those out. Feeling sentimental are we?" Dean closed the magazine and placed it lovingly in his bag, "What? A guy can't look at porn anymore?" Sam responded, "That's not porn to you, and you know it. Usually you're into that really gross shit. I didn't even know you still had that old stuff." Dean got up to go to the bathroom and said abrasively, "Yea, well, it's a special occasion."

After Dean got cleaned up he gave Meredith a final call. "Hey Meredith." Her voice was excited, "Hey, Dean! How's it going? Are you still in town?" He replied sullenly, "Yea, but we are leaving tomorrow. Our job is done here and we need to move on soon." She answered his unasked question with confidence, "Well, you can't leave until we resolve some unfinished business. I've just opened a bottle of wine. You should come over, I'm making gumbo and fried green tomatoes. Got a pen? Here's my address." He dutifully wrote it down with a hesitant but happy smile. He asked, "When can I come over?" "As soon as you want, you can help me cook. See you soon, Dean."

He rolled up to her house and pulled into the driveway behind her Corolla. It was a small red brick bungalow but it was nice, well kept up. The yard was neat and kempt. It didn't have much of a flower bed, only a few shrubs, but there was a beautiful sycamore tree that hung its branches over the house, like a guardian nymph. He climbed out of the car, a six pack in tow. When he stood before the heavy set wooden door he wondered whether he should knock or ring the door bell. He deliberated and knocked. A muffled, "Coming. One sec" was heard on the other side of the door. Dean was aware of the unlocking of several locks including a dead bolt. _She's one smart cookie_. The threw open the door and greeted him with a huge smile, "Hey. I'm glad you made it. Here, come on in." He passed over the threshold and into the main room of the house. The living room was covered the whole front of the house. It was a spacious feeling room even though it was modestly sized. There was a small hallway to the back of the house into the kitchen and eating areas. On the other side of the house was the bedroom. The bathroom was accessible only through the bedroom. She led him through to the kitchen where delicious spicy aromas wafted into the wake of their motion. "I just cracked opened some red wine. Care for a glass?" she offered. "Nah, I'm more of a beer and whiskey kind of a guy," he explained, setting the six pack down on the small dining table. "I totally understand. I not into it much myself, but it is so delicious, give it a try." She passed her glass to him and she watched him sip it with expectant eyes. His face wrinkled up and he passed it back to her, "thanks, but no thanks." She had a melodic laugh and it filled the kitchen. "Well, come on over here. I'm putting you to work."

Together they put the finishing touches on the gumbo that she had been making. She tossed him a bag of frozen okra and motioned to the cutting board already set up. He didn't know his way around a kitchen at all, and after an unsure moment, Meredith walked right up next to him and showed him what to do. She went back to the steaming pot and dropped in a few bay leaves and carefully stirring. The tall pot was filled up to a centimeter from the top. He asked as he handed her the cut okra, "Why are you making so much?" She smiled at him and said, "Because I love it. My father used to make it for me on my birthday. Before I left home, he showed me how it was done." "But there is so much!" Dean exclaimed. She laughed and motioned to another large pot in the corner, mason jars scattered around. "We are going to can the rest. Since I live alone, whenever I decide to cook I make a whole lot and I can it so I don't have to cook every single night." He watched as she cut up leftover chicken thighs and put them in. She stirred more and he saw sausage in the mix. When she turned her back, he stole a taste off the spoon. She laughed when she caught him, punching him lightly on the arm. He shied away laughing with his hands up in defense. "There, it's done," she finally said in a proud satisfied tone. She took the other pot and brought a small amount of water to a boil. She deftly filled the mason jars and slipped them into the pot. It was like perfectly timed clock work. She pulled them out and they were sealed. Dean took one of the jars in his hands and turned it over, examining the seal made by the cap. "I never really knew how this was done. I mean, when you open food from the store you know it's been sealed, but I didn't know you could do it at home." She laughed lightly, "Well of course." That was one of the things he really liked about Meredith, she found amusement and joy in everything. She was always laughing that sweet, beautiful laugh that just made him want to pull her into his arms.

She sliced two green tomatoes and plopped them onto a plate covered in cornmeal. She got out her cast iron pan and got the oil up to temperature. Dean looked skeptical as she carefully placed the cornmeal covered slices into the oil, immediately sizzling and spurting oil all over. As she covered the pan with tomatoes, she pulled back suddenly several times. "Ouch! It doesn't mater how many times I do this, it still stings when the oil spits on me." They watched them cook and when they were golden brown and crispy on both sides she lifted them out with a spatula and onto a paper towel. She brought the second batch towards the pan but hesitated. Dean looked concerned, "What is it?" "Oh, It's nothing," she said, moving closer to the boiling oil. Dean realized the issue and, stepping between her and the stove, he said, "Here, let me do this batch. You can teach me how." She smiled at him and said, "Oh, cool. Well, gently place them into the pan." After putting two or three in, he pulled back suddenly as well, "Fuck. I see what you mean." She laughed at him and bumped him with her elbow, "Then you are doing it right." When they had cooled somewhat, she dug around in the cupboard and pulled out the Tabasco sauce. They began eating the fried green tomatoes over the kitchen counter.

Meredith pulled out large bowls and silverware and handed it to Dean. Dean set the table best he could, they didn't have many family dinners growing up. He placed his second beer at the corner of the placemat as he sat down. She brought a small pot to the table and spooned out a large mound of rice into each of their bowls. She then brought over the rest of the gumbo and served them both generous portions. She poured herself more wine and sat down across from Dean. "Dig in!"

The food was delicious and the company was even better.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** super XXX but not rough or twisted, just really hot.

When their meal was finished, Dean and Meredith lazily moved into the living room, trailing the wine and beer close behind. Meredith fell down onto one side of the modest couch. Dean looked between the couch and the armchair for a moment then up at Meredith. She patted the cushion next to her, "Come sit next to me silly." Dean smiled and sat down. The continued talking about all sorts of stuff. About their childhoods and how they got to be in this small town. About the problems they faced, comforting each other in turn. Meredith poured the last of the wine into her glass and settled back into Dean's side. Dean wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and closed her eyes. Dean slugged his last beer and set it softly on the side table. He placed his free hand on her thigh and stroked it absentmindedly. Meredith pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye. "Are you coming onto me?" she said with a sly smile. He smiled back, "And if I was?" Her laugh rang true. She sat the glass on the coffee table and swung her leg over his body to straddle him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her face down to his. Dean looked up into her eyes as she said in the most seductive voice he ever heard, "Let's do this."

She connected their lips hesitantly at first. Dean ran his hands up her back and pulled her into an intensely passionate kiss. She responded and combed her fingers through his hair tugging playfully, and then lustfully. Their libidos kicked into full force quickly. Dean wrapped his arms around her securely and turned her onto her back with him poised above. Bracing himself on the couch, he leaned down to kiss her again. She pulled him down on her, forcing his weight down on her. She moaned in excitement and continued to pull and caress him against her body. Soon, she was grabbing for the hem of his shirt. She awkwardly pulled it up his torso in lust. He pulled back and made light work of it and scooped her up to pull her shirt up and over as well. Her eyes burned and Dean could feel himself begin to harden. Her breath came in short gasps and moans. She was hyperventilating with sexual desire. Meredith reached down and unclasped Dean's belt, pulling it out with a snap. She undid his fly and exposed his boxers. She grinned at the forming bulge at his center. He stood up, kicked off his shoes, and slid his pants the rest of the way down. He unbuttoned her jeans. Meredith lifted her hips and he pulled them down slowly, exaggerating the motion. He tossed the jeans and returned to her. He looked in pleasure at her exposed form, curvy in all the right places, not anorexic like so many girls he had been with. Dean leaned down to kiss her deeply. He pulled her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He carried her deftly down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Dean laid her down in her bed gently, slowly easing himself on top of her. He kissed her slowly but deeply. Their tongues danced with each other, mixing and playing seamlessly. He nibbled at her lower lip and she breathed him in. He moved to her ear lobe, sucking on it slightly. She moaned at the new sensation. A deep burning grew in her body. He kissed down her jaw bone and her neck ever so slowly. She made the most delicious sounds that drove Dean crazy. She started to writhe below him so great was her building pleasure. He kissed down to the nape of her neck and traced that line further with the tips of his fingers. Kissing her lips once more, his hand caressed her breast over her bra, finding her hardened nipple even over the supportive cloth. He released it and wound his fingers then hand under her bra. It turned her on so much, the extent to which he teased her was almost unbearable but she never wanted such pleasure to end. He caressed her breast in his bare hand, squeezing softly her nipple. He pulled back, bringing her with him, supporting her back as he unclasped her bra with dexterity. He placed her back on the bed and she slid the straps off her arms and pulled the bra away. Finally, Dean gazed upon her beautiful breasts, lazily sloping off of each side of her chest. He leaned down on his elbows and held both in his hands. He circled her nipples watching her reaction. Meredith looked down at him with a beautiful smile. He leaned over and took one of her nipples into his mouth, the warmth surrounding her areola. He flicked with his tongue and she moaned even louder. She threw her head back into the pillow in pleasure. He pinched and turned slightly her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, not neglecting either breast.

A deep growl issued from within her slight body. He released her breasts and kissed down toward her navel. He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh slowly, her sensitive skin continuing the feeling towards her vagina. She longed to be touched. It had been so long since a foreign hand had laid itself upon her. She writhed in pleasure beneath his every touch, responding with such unleashed passion Dean could hardly control his own. He drew his finder up her underwear right over her slit softly. She pushed into his hand but he pulled back with her movement, forever tormenting her in ecstasy. He slipped a finger under the waistband of her panties, pulling down slowly. Her abdomen tensed and untensed at the faint tug. She lifted her hips and he pulled off her underwear, revealing the holiest of holies. Her bush was delicately trimmed and luscious, already dripping with juice. He worked a finger down her slit over her clit and down to the entrance of her vagina and then tantalizingly back up. She pressed her pelvis up into the touch. Dean smiled a wicked smile and made small circles over her clitorious. She hummed in delight and pleasure. He leaned down and she gasped as his tongue came in contact with her. He brushed her clit with varying pressure, watching her reaction, seeing what she liked since she was way too far gone to formulate words. He slid down to her vagina, entering her, tasting her, breathing in her amazing pheromone drenched aroma. He buried his face in her, rubbing the tip of his nose against her clit as he slid his tong in and out, up and down of her vagina. She was mesmerized, no one had gone down on her before. She had always been embarrassed but he made her feel so comfortable. She felt she could truly be her self, not hide expression or any feeling she experienced. He slipped a finger inside of her and she gasped loudly. He pushed it in about half way and searched for her g-spot. Finding it, he put pressure on that rough plush nerve center, driving her so high that moans and pleasure sounds issued from her throat non-stop. Meredith's vagina leaked out more lubrication as her pleasure grew towards its finish. He slipped in another and pulled in and out of her, getting her ready.

He grabbed her hand and led it down to her clit, nodding to her to pleasure herself. He drew back quickly to pull down his boxers and throw them aside. His erection stood out in defiance of gravity. He was large and hard. Dean watched her for a moment, holding her bent knees in his hands. One hand massaged her nipple while the other played with her clit and slit. She was so beautiful, so expressive, so sexy. He held himself in his hand and directed it toward her vagina. He laid it at the top by her clit and slid it down and up her sensitive lips. She couldn't restrain herself anymore and bucked slowly into his piece. Dean smirked and looked her directly in the eye. They maintained eye contact as he pressed inside of her. She yelped as his head entered her body. It had been a while since she last had sex, she was so tight and it hurt slightly. He saw the slight pain in her face and froze. She adjusted and nodded for him to continue. He stretched her ever so much as he pushed farther and farther in. Finally, he was all the way inside of her. She felt him fill her up inside. He felt her warm vaginal embrace around his penis.

He held still all the way inside of her and leaned down over her to kiss her deeply and passionately. Meredith reciprocated with new need and desire, pressing her breasts and body into his. He pressed down on her slightly, she grabbed onto him, pulling him as close as possible. She hugged him tightly as he pulled slowly out and pushed back in. After a few strokes, all pain had faded replaced by pure pleasure and escalating sensation. He quickened the pace and she was making the most beautiful sexy sounds he had ever heard, primal but deliciously sensual. He caught her mouth in a another kiss. He couldn't get enough of her. The head of his penis hit her g-spot on each pass, bringing her closer and closer to her climax. Dean wasn't sure how much longer he would last, he had been on the edge since he slipped inside her. He immersed himself in her embrace. As he rushed in and out of her their pleasure increased exponentially pulling them over the edge. She grasped him tighter, pulling him deeper, her crossed ankles guiding them to the top. She crumbled first, her climax rumbled from deep within. Great waves of pleasure and release swept up her spine to all corners of her body. She was on fire. He felt her vagina constrict repeatedly on his cock in her orgasm and it brought him to his own. He leaned back slightly and pulled out, releasing his seed on her stomach with a primal groan. He bent over, the feeling of ecstasy racing through his body, easing with every breath. He collapsed beside her. She remained on her back, still savoring the feeling inside. Her head was in the clouds and she was speechless. He placed his hand on her belly but she was still catching her breath. She let her legs ease down to the bed and put her arms up above her head. She came down slowly, closing her eyes in wonder.

Dean recovered before her and reached to the bedside table, grabbing a tissue. Gently wiped his semen from her pelvis and stomach, then cleaned himself as well. He found the comforter and sheets that were tucked under the pillows and pulled them down and helped her underneath them. He didn't want to disturb her endorphin high. He brought the covers over them and moved her gently into a spooning position. He placed one arm under his pillow over and draped the other over her, rubbing slow circles on her soft belly.


End file.
